


Nemesis Mine

by andonewillbringhisfall



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, also occasional swearing do I have to tag for that, mild violence, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-18 09:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andonewillbringhisfall/pseuds/andonewillbringhisfall
Summary: Superhero/university alter-ego AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has also been posted on @andonewillbringhisfall on Tumblr. This is my first chaptered fic and I'll (hopefully) be updating every day for snowbaz FEDA (fic every day in April).

Chapter 1. Simon.

I want to fly away, and save us both the trouble.

‘Are you going to run?’ he sneers. ‘Go on, Snow. Go home.’

‘No,’ I growl, rushing at him, my outstretched wings catching the fading sunlight, bathing him in a strange red glow. Basilton Pitch, my arch-nemesis dressed all in black, stands on the ground in fighting stance, ready for me. He’s always ready.

At the last second before we collide he ducks out of the way. I’m expecting it – I’m not going to fall for the same trick again after so many years – and I manage to avoid crashing onto the pavement. He’s suddenly behind me, and a kick to my back sends me stumbling forward. I try to slash at him with my tail, but he’s too fast, and he’s back in front of me, slamming me back into a building.

The air rushes out of my lungs and I fight to catch my breath.

‘Some superhero,’ he spits, not letting up, and my back is digging painfully into the hard brick wall behind me. One of Basilton’s superpowers is strength, among other things, like super speed and enhanced senses. The only things I’ve got are my wings.

‘You’re meant to be saving the world, and instead you’re fighting me.’

 _You started it_ , I want to say, but I save my breath. Besides, it’s not entirely true. My father has drilled it into me; the Pitches are our enemies, and if I don’t take Basilton down, he will end me. We always end up in a tangle of bruised limbs and pointless violence like this, but someday we’re going to fight each other for real and only one of us will survive. I try to shove him off, but he doesn’t budge. My tail snakes out from between me and the wall, and I use it to thump him on the back of the head.

I can’t see his eyes, hidden by his mask, but he stumbles back and releases me. I know I’m too beat up to hold my own for much longer, so I step off the wall and quickly spread out my wings.

‘I _will_ avenge my mother, Snow,’ he says. ‘Just not today.’

‘Until next time, nemesis mine,’ I say, and fly up out of his reach.

*

I land on the roof of the Watford University student accommodation building. Night has fallen and no-one seems to be around, so I figure it’s worth the risk, rather than landing in the nearby forest and having to walk all the way back. There are cuts up and down my arms and legs, and my back is sore. I heal better when I’m in superhero form so I know the bruises are probably gone, but I sit up on the roof for a few minutes just to be sure, folding my wings behind me to try to keep warm.

I murmur the incantation and my wings and tail disappear, along with my mask. I stumble to my feet and pull open the door to the stairwell.

It’s hard enough being a full-time student _and_ an undercover superhero. I don’t need an archrival in the mix. My grades are suffering, and I’m positive that someday Basilton is going to get in my way when I’m trying to save someone’s life.

This isn’t just about me and him, or even about our families. This is about the lives of the innocent people I’m supposed to be saving.

I sigh, half-tripping down the stairs in the dark and shoving my way out to the third floor, where I live. I unlock the door to room 61 and manage to make it over to my bed before I collapse face-first onto the pillow.

‘Simon.’

I fight back a groan.

‘Are you hurt? What happened?’

I shrug. What can I say? _Oh nothing much, just another fight with my supervillain arch-nemesis._

‘ _Simon_.’

There’s an edge of panic creeping into his voice now, and he’s hovering over my bed.

‘’mm fine,’ I mumble. ‘Went jogging again. Crashed. Had to run home.’ I’ve used this excuse so many times I’m surprised he still believes me. He must think I’m an idiot who can’t stop running into trees.

‘You’re not fine,’ he says, ‘you’re bleeding.’

I shrug again. I hear his footsteps retreating into the bathroom, so I sit up, careful not to upset my wounds (there’s already blood on the covers, so no point worrying about that), and turn to wait for him.

He comes back with a first aid kit (we’ve done this before) and sits next to me on the bed.

‘Take off your shirt,’ he demands, and I pretend my heartrate didn’t just pick up. To think I was exhausted just a few seconds ago. I do as he asks (I know what to do. It’s practically a routine by now.).

‘You have to stop doing this,’ he says, dabbing carefully at a cut on my arm. Fuck, now there are goosebumps up my arm. Surely he’s going to notice.  
I shrug. (Three in a row. Great.)

‘Simon,’ he says, and his grey eyes are so worried and so gentle and so fucking beautiful. ‘If someone’s hurting you, you should tell me.’

I shake my head. ‘Really, I’m fine, I’m just really clumsy.’

He smirks. ‘Somehow I find that entirely believable. Turn around.’

I do, and he starts treating the cuts on my back. His hands are so cold – but in a good way. I’m glad I’ve got my back to him so he can’t see me blush.

I can’t decide what’s the more impossible task.

Having a massive crush on my roommate, and trying to hide it from him. Or hiding the fact that I’m a superhero.

Baz is smart, and it’s only a matter of time before he figures me out.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2. Baz.

Simon is starting to heal. It’s been a few days and I’ve been watching him almost constantly, usually when he’s not paying attention (I’m always looking at him when he’s not paying attention). I notice the way he carries himself and how he never flinches when his shoulder or his arm brushes against a wall or bumps into another student, so I finally decide that he’s really fine. He hasn’t been seriously hurt.

He looks up and smiles when I walk into our room, collapsing in my desk chair.

‘Hey, Baz,’ he says. ‘Long day?’

Simon communicates in shrugs and fragmented sentences. We’ve been roommates since we both started at Watford at the beginning of the year and after a few weeks I realised it’s just the way he is.

‘You have no idea,’ I say with a groan. ‘My tutor is a complete git.’

He’s flicking a pen back and forth between his fingers, and it flies across the room. He blushes and laughs.

Simon also blushes easily. I try not to have too much fun with it.

‘Look, do you want to go out for dinner?’ he says casually once he’s retrieved the pen. He sets it down on the desk and folds his arms.

I raise an eyebrow. Simon loves the food we get in the dining hall, especially the fact that our meals are included in our accommodation and are already paid for, meaning he can eat as much as he wants.

‘I would love to,’ I say, and his entire being seems to light up. (Fuck.) ‘But I can’t. I’m behind on my assignment, and I’m busy tonight.’

He pouts. ‘Behind as in due in a week, right?’

I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, so?’

‘So that’s not _behind_ by most people’s standards, smart-ass.’

I smirk. ‘Fine. I’m _barely on time_ with my assignment.’

‘Great, then you can go out with me,’ he says with a winning smile.

_Words, Simon_ , I want to chide him. He’ll either not use them at all, or he uses them to imply things that he probably doesn’t mean.

‘Nope. Sorry, Simon, but I really am busy.’

Sometimes I just want to say fuck the superhero life and walk away from my family. I’d much rather go out for dinner with Simon than go chasing bad guys. (The chasing itself isn’t even so bad. It’s what comes after.)

‘Doing what?’ He sticks out his chin and stares me down, defying me not to give him a straight answer.

Oh, Simon. I wouldn’t lie to you if I didn’t have to.

‘Meeting friends,’ I say, avoiding his eyes.

Meeting friends in dark alleys in the middle of the night. That’s what I always imply, and it sounds dodgy enough that he knows not to ask any more questions. I suppose Simon thinks I’m in some sort of gang or something. It seemed like the most plausible excuse as to why I keep coming back hurt late at night. Soccer practice stopped sounding believable after the first two weeks.

‘Right, meeting friends,’ he echoes. ‘Guess I’ll see you later then.’

‘Yeah, later, Simon.’

 

*

 

The guy doesn’t know I’m following him.

I’m tracking him by scent. If I was asked to pick him out of a line-up tomorrow, I probably wouldn’t be able to do it. The faces all start to blur together after so many years. Everyone I’ve fought, even the ones I’ve killed, each no more or less important than the last. I’m just doing my job as a superhero, as a Pitch.

There’s only one enemy who matters.

The guy (a murderer, a mugger, a rapist; I don’t need to know the details) turns a corner and a familiar anger starts to burn in my stomach.

This is where my mother was murdered, on a night just like this fourteen years ago. She was chasing a guy just like I’m doing now. Superheroes are supposed to stick together; we’re supposed to save people, we’re not supposed to fight each other. The Mage’s Men and the Pitches have always understood that. They save people who are in peril, we take out the bad guys, everyone lives happily ever after. Davy, Snow’s father, was the first one to suggest that what we do is wrong. He’d been working against us for years when my mother died.

That’s why I refuse to believe that it was an accident. My mother had cornered the guy at the top of a building (the apartment block to my right; I force myself to look up as I pass it). Snow claims that Davy was trying to save the guy, and Mother was trying to capture him, and the guy would have dropped thirty storeys off the building if Davy hadn’t gotten to them first. It was all just a misunderstanding, he says. They just got in each other’s way.

When Snow brings that up, I feel like I really could end him. _That murderer was more important than my mother?_ I want to scream at him. (And if Davy was lying, which is all too plausible, then it’s a moot point anyway.)

I hate Davy for what he did to my mother, and as Snow is following in his father’s footsteps, that makes him my enemy.

He calls me a supervillain. But unlike his family, I have never hurt an innocent person.

I catch up to the guy I’ve been stalking. I just want to get this over with and go home to Simon.

 

*

 

Tonight I’m the one sitting shirtless on my bed while Simon tends to my injuries.

‘It’s just a few scratches,’ I say while he fusses, but I make no move to stop him.

His hands are warm. My fair falls in his face and he brushes it back behind my ear without seeming to realise he’s doing it.

Everything Simon does to me, he does without realising it.

‘No, no, Bazzy,’ he mutters. ‘I’m worried about you.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ I say. ‘And definitely don’t call me that.’

‘Fine,’ he says. ‘What’s Baz short for, anyway? Barry?’

It’s actually short for Tyrannus Basilton Pitch, and no doubt Simon has heard of me, and since Snow and the Mage’s Men are so popular it’s almost certain that he’s been subjected to some of their bullshit and probably thinks I’m a supervillain.

I snicker. ‘Do I look like a Barry?’

He giggles. ‘No. You just look like… my Baz.’

And there he goes again. Leaving me to wonder if maybe he knows exactly what he’s saying.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3. Simon.

I’m worried about Baz. I keep expecting to be called to fly off and save him from someone who’s hurting him. Maybe it’s really nothing, like he says. I just wish he’d tell me where he goes all those nights so at least I’d know if I need to be worried. And I can look out for him if I have to.

I also think he might be lying to me, about the ‘friends’ he’s supposedly meeting. I think there’s more to the story. He doesn’t seem like someone who would hang around dark suspicious bars and get into fights. Judging by his clothes and the way he talks, he comes from a posh family. Even his cologne suggests poshness. And everyone knows he’s at the top of the class, so it’s not like he’s worried about money or his future. So I don’t see why he would need to do things that might put him in danger.

‘Hey, Simon.’

I whip my head around, and realise I’ve been staring out the window for the past ten minutes.

‘I’m studying,’ I say to Baz, my grin sheepish.

‘I can see that.’

I’m tempted to stick my tongue out at him, but instead I wad up a ball of notebook paper and chuck it across. It bounces harmlessly off his shoulder and falls to the floor.

‘Didn’t you say you’re a chapter behind?’

I look at my thick textbook with a grimace. ‘Yeah.’

‘Well, go on, then.’ He raises an eyebrow expectantly.

‘Stop distracting me.’

‘How am I distracting you? I’m the one keeping you on task.’

I wave my hand in his general direction. ‘You’re distracting.’ _And I’m worried about you_. But I don’t say it out loud, because now it sounds like I’m flirting with him, and I think I’m ready for him to realise that.

‘Alright, Simon.’ He hooks the ball of paper up with his toe and kicks it back up in my face.

‘Show-off,’ I say. (I didn’t make the soccer team. Of course Baz did. He’s bloody brilliant at it.)

‘You love it,’ he says.

‘I do.’

*

‘Are you going out again tonight?’

He looks up. ‘It’s been five minutes. Remind me, who’s distracting whom?’

‘Are you?’

‘No.’

‘Good. Let’s just stay in tonight. I’m tired,’ I say.

‘You’re tired. You’ve done nothing except stare out the window,’ he scoffs.

I put my pen down and turn in my seat so I’m facing him. ‘Look, Baz.’

He does the same, meeting my gaze squarely.

‘I’m just worried about you,’ I say. ‘After last night. And all the other times. I just. I don’t like to think of you getting hurt.’

He smiles at me with only one side of his mouth. ‘I know. I’m fine.’

‘If someone –’ I bite my lip. ‘I mean – if someone’s hurting you. Tell me.’

‘Simon, I appreciate your concern, but I promise you I’m fine.’ Then he smirks. ‘I really can’t imagine you running off to beat someone up for me.’

I bet you can’t imagine me sprouting red wings and a tail either.

Maybe I should tell him. That I’m Snow, I mean. So he’ll realise that I really could protect him, if that’s what he needs me to do. And maybe also because I don’t want to have this massive secret from him. I want him to know me.

‘Is it your family?’ I blurt out.

He shakes his head. ‘No, Simon, nothing like that. I promise.’

‘But then aren’t your parents –’

‘Actually, my mother’s dead,’ he says quietly.

‘Oh.’ Before I even realise I’m doing it, I’m leaning forward out of my chair, and since our desks are right next to each other I’m suddenly really close to him. ‘That’s… really awful. How long ago?’

‘I was five,’ he says.

‘My mother – she died when I was born,’ I say.

He nods. ‘You told me that, not long after we met.’

We’re both silent, thinking about it. Baz doesn’t reveal personal things to anyone, usually. This… this means something.

I lean closer. (I wish I had a wheely chair so I could just slide over to him effortlessly. As it is, this is as far as I can get without falling or making it really obvious.) (Fuck.)

‘Okay,’ Baz says.

‘Okay what?’

‘We’ll stay in tonight. If you want to.’

I straighten up, smiling. ‘Yeah. We can get takeout.’

He smiles back. ‘Sounds like a plan. Now stop distracting me, would you?’


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4. Baz.

Everything is going so well.

Simon and I study for another hour, then decide to call it a day. We order takeout for dinner and eat it in front of a movie.

‘Let’s have a movie marathon,’ Simon says.

‘Or we could get some sleep so we can focus in class tomorrow,’ I quip.

‘Two movies.’

‘Deal.’

He gets out his laptop and we have to share earphones so as not to disturb the people in the neighbouring rooms (the walls aren’t exactly soundproof) and that means huddling together on my bed. Simon is so warm, and I’m so aware of every tiny move either of us makes, and I don’t register any of the first twenty minutes of the movie. I just want to burrow closer to him and hold him.

I don’t know. Maybe he would let me.

I finally start to relax and by the end of the first movie our sides are glued together and Simon doesn’t seem to mind at all.

I can hardly concentrate on the movie with him so close to me, but then halfway through the second one I start thinking about the guy I was following the other night. My family had been tracking him for a long time and he was leaving a trail of casualties across the country.

Sometimes the only way to catch up to someone is for a superhero to step in. And even then, sometimes the only way to stop them from hurting more people is… well, to make absolutely sure that they can’t.

I’m a Pitch, and that means I have to do the dirty work. Does that make me a superhero, or a supervillain?

I hate it. I know it’s my duty, and it’s for the greater good, and that I’m the only one who can protect society from these dangerous people. But I hate that Simon thinks I’m this posh, dedicated, perfect university student, when really I’m… a monster, I suppose. Maybe. What the Pitches do is justified in my mind (not in Davy’s, of course, not in Snow’s), but that doesn’t mean I’m not a monster. That doesn’t mean that Simon wouldn’t run far away if he knew about the things I’ve done.

I sigh quietly and Simon looks up at me.

He’s so close. His eyes are such a regular shade of blue, a little washed-out. To me, they hold the stars.

‘You don’t like the movie?’ he says.

‘It’s fine,’ I answer quietly. ‘I’m just tired.’

‘Oh.’ He pauses it. ‘Sorry. We can finish it tomorrow?’

I shake my head. ‘No, it’s okay. It’s almost done.’

‘Okay.’

He restarts the movie, and I try to stop thinking about everything, and just enjoy his warmth. Enjoy the fact that I get to sit here watching illegally downloaded movies with him and – oh. I think he’s fallen asleep. His head is resting on my shoulder, his curls tickling my chin. I hold my breath (and then I smell his hair because I can’t resist) (it smells like the woods and like cheap shampoo and I love it).

The credits start rolling and I shut off Simon’s laptop, carefully pulling out the earphones which are now tangled up between us, and shove it to the end of the bed. He hasn’t woken up, so I gently push him down to lie on my bed and pull the covers over him, still fully-clothed.

And then I go to sleep in Simon’s bed. I might be crossing a line, but I don’t want to wake him, and, well, I’d be crossing an even bigger line if I slept in my own bed next to him.

The pillow smells like him, and I fall asleep almost immediately.

*

‘Mmmbbggrfff…. What?’ He sits bolt upright. ‘Baz?’

I look over from my textbook. ‘Morning, sleepyhead.’

‘Why am I in your bed? Did I fall asleep here last night?’ He runs a hand through his tangled curls. His eyes are still half-closed. ‘Sorry. Urgh.’

I smile. ‘It’s okay, Simon. I didn’t want to wake you. But you better hurry up if you want to make it to the lecture.’

‘Where did you sleep?’ he says, and now his eyes are wide open.

‘In your bed.’

‘Oh.’

‘I hope you didn’t mind.’

‘No, no,’ he says hurriedly. ‘Definitely not.’

‘Okay.’ I grin at him. He grins back. ‘Now seriously. You have ten minutes to get ready.’

‘Shit.’

*

We walk to the lecture hall together, Simon still stuffing scones in his mouth.

‘Hey, Simon,’ someone calls, waving to us from a row of seats near the back. My stomach sinks as Simon walks over to her.

‘Hi, Agatha.’

There are two spare seats in her row and he sits next to her, leaving me to take the last chair with a small sigh. I busy myself arranging my notes as they talk.

‘How are you?’ Simon asks, turning his megawatt smile on his ex-girlfriend. ‘How’s lacrosse?’

She’s chattering on about something that happened at practice last week and Simon keeps smiling at her (not that I’m checking) and laughing and he never takes his eyes off her (again, not that I’m checking). She’s even doing the arm-touching thing. I don’t know if Simon wants to get back together with her, but I know it wasn’t his idea to break up in the first place. They were high school sweethearts, and he told me that just after graduation she said something about wanting to be free to find herself at university (he seemed confused, like he didn’t really understand what she meant) even though they were going to the same one and would be sharing some classes.

Maybe _Agatha_ has realised her mistake and wants to get back together with him. Maybe that’s all it is, and he’s moved on now, and he’ll tell her no. But who would tell Agatha Wellbelove no? She was the most beautiful girl at their school, he told me once. She’s probably still the most beautiful girl in this class. And she’s blonde and innocent and lovely (not a monster) (a girl – that might play in her favour too, we’ve never talked about that).

‘Baz. Baz.’

I snap out of my brooding and realise he’s been trying to get my attention.

‘What?’

‘Have you got a spare pen?’

I roll my eyes. Typical. I hand over my spare pen (I may have started carrying it around because I know Simon always forgets).

‘Thanks. Here, Agatha. Baz has one.’

Oh.

‘Thanks, Simon,’ she chirps. I sink back down in my seat.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5. Simon.

It’s getting late, and I’m tired and desperate to go home. Baz has been acting quiet and sullen all day, and I want to check on him and make sure everything’s okay. I’ve been flying around all afternoon saving kids from drowning in lakes and rescuing hikers trapped in the forest and I even flew someone’s cat down from a tree. Sometimes being a superhero is a lot less exciting than people might think.

I’m almost back to the Watford campus when I see a group of people outside a bar that I immediately get a bad feeling about. I fly lower and land on the roof. There’s a group of tough-looking men and women who have someone cornered by the back door. My tail starts swishing behind me and I’m about to leap into the fray when I hear shouts and the sound of pounding feet.

A girl has broken out of the group and is running for her life, blonde hair swinging behind her. She’s clutching something that I realise must be pepper spray. She’s wearing heels and a dress that I suddenly recognise – it’s Agatha.

One of the men has started chasing her. I leap down from the building but before I even make it to the ground, a blurry shape rushes past me and seems to collide with him. There’s a brief scuffle and then the guy is lying on the ground, unconscious.

I catch a glimpse of him before he goes after the rest of the group. Basilton Pitch. Of course, this kind of thing is usually his job. I leave him to it and fly after Agatha.

‘Agatha –’ _Shit_. I almost forgot that she doesn’t know it’s me. And if Basilton heard me call her by name, he might be able to figure out who I am. I can’t let him have the upper hand.

I don’t know whether or not she heard me, but she only runs faster, which finally makes her trip over her heels and fall on her face (I’m surprised she ran so fast in those things). I land next to her.

‘It’s just me,’ I say, bending to help her up.

She looks relieved. ‘Snow. Great. Thank you.’ She throws a panicked glance over her shoulder, still breathing hard.

We both get a shock when Basilton suddenly appears in front of us.

‘Are you hurt?’ he says to her, his voice icy cold.

‘I’ve got it under control,’ I butt in.

‘I wasn’t talking to you, Snow,’ he growls.

‘I’m fine,’ Agatha says. ‘Just shaken.’

He nods curtly and starts to walk away.

‘Hey,’ I call, ‘where are you going?’

‘She says she’s fine,’ he says without turning around.

‘Your job isn’t done! Aren’t you going to make sure she actually gets home safely?’

He stops walking and turns around with a sigh. ‘Why would she need me when she has the great heroic Snow?’

‘But it’s your job,’ I say stubbornly. Why is he acting like such a villain? He usually at least pretends to care about anyone he rescues.

‘Why are you even here, then?’

‘I was just in the area.’ Fuck, now he’ll know I live nearby. ‘There was an incident. With a cat. Near here.’

‘Right,’ he says, the scorn heavy in his voice. ‘A cat. So that’s what the mighty and revered superhero does with his time.’

My tail is twitching behind me. It does that when I’m agitated. Of course Basilton notices.

‘Are you going to strangle me with that tail of yours?’ he taunts. ‘Or are you going to fly up and drop me off a building, like your father did to my –’

I slam into him (as if I’m responsible for my father’s actions) and try to punch him in the jaw (it was an accident, why can’t he accept that, of course Davy didn’t mean to) and he ducks out of the way (I’m so tired of him taking everything out on me and it’s not like he hasn’t killed people too). We’re circling each other in the middle of a deserted alleyway.

‘Go on,’ he says. ‘Don’t you have better things to do than fight me?’

I’m seeing red, and I want to tell him that he’s a villain and that makes it my job to fight him, but I remember Agatha watching us and tell myself to calm down. Agatha’s my friend. I don’t want her to see this, even if she doesn’t know that it’s me.

‘Fine,’ I spit. ‘I’ll make sure she’s safe, since you don’t seem to care.’

He shakes his head. ‘This isn’t over.’

‘It’s never over, is it, nemesis mine.’ (It pisses him off when I call him that, which is the only reason why I do it.) I turn around and walk back to Agatha, who’s been watching us with barely concealed curiosity. And possibly some contempt.

‘I can get home by myself,’ she says to me.

‘I know. I’m going the same way.’

‘How do you know where I’m going?’

I shrug. ‘Just a gut feeling.’

*

I shed my disguise on the roof of the building as usual and make my way down to room 61. At least I escaped without any injuries this time, so Baz won’t ask any questions.

I try to get back into my regular uni student Simon headspace before going into the room. I remember last night, when I fell asleep on Baz’s bed and he tucked me in and we swapped beds for the night. I remember sitting right up close to him as we watched the movies. I can’t remember what either movie was about, I was too busy noticing how it felt to have him so close to me. Too busy imagining all the different ways he might react if I leaned over and kissed his cheek, or if I reached over and started playing with his hair, or if I laced our fingers together.

I didn’t do any of those things, obviously. But I want to. I want to do more than that. Today though, in all the classes we shared and in the afternoon, he was withdrawn. He barely spoke to me unless I spoke to him first. I wonder if he regrets sleeping in my bed last night. If he thinks we crossed a line that he didn’t want us to cross.

I take a deep breath before turning my key in the lock and shoving open the door. Baz is on his bed fiddling with his phone. He doesn’t look up when I come in.

‘Where were you?’ he asks.

‘I – um – with Agatha,’ I blurt. (It’s technically true.)

His face remains expressionless. ‘I see,’ he says.

I sit on the edge of my bed, facing him.

‘Is everything okay?’ I ask.

He looks up and raises an eyebrow. ‘Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?’

‘It’s just…’ I frown. ‘You’re being distant.’

‘Am I?’

‘If it’s about yesterday…’

‘Yesterday?’

I roll my eyes. ‘Come on, Baz. You know. Me sleeping in your bed.’ I’m probably blushing. Fuck. He must know how I feel.

‘It wasn’t a big deal, Simon,’ he says.

‘Okay.’

‘You said you were fine with it,’ he says, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.

‘I – I _was_ ,’ I stammer. ‘I am.’

‘What’s the problem, then?’ He narrows his eyes at me. ‘Is this because you were with Agatha? Because it’s not like we –’

Oh. _Oh_. Agatha. My ex.

‘No,’ I blurt out, cutting him off. ‘I mean, I wasn’t _with_ Agatha, not like… you know. We’re just friends. I mean, it’s been months, and we’re really close, but we’re definitely – we’re just friends.’

He waits for me to stop rambling. ‘Sure, Simon,’ he says. ‘And you’re okay with that?’

‘Yeah, I’m – _yeah_ , totally,’ I say. I rub my hand over my eyes. ‘I mean, I’m not interested in Agatha anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.’ I hesitate, biting my lip. ‘I’m actually – I might be interested in someone else.’

I peek up at him and – he’s smiling, this tiny, private smile like he’s trying not to let me see it, but I do see it, and I want to walk over there and kiss it off his lips. Instead, I blush madly, grab my pyjamas and rush out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6. Baz.

I spend Saturday tracking down criminals, but my mind is elsewhere.

Snow. Simon. Snow. Simon.

They’ve both been on my mind ever since last night. I keep alternating between anger towards Snow for the righteous way he acts, and how he insisted that I see Agatha home, and it only makes me madder to know that he was right. I was supposed to make sure she got home safely, especially as I don’t know why those people were after her in the first place (most likely because she was dressed up nicely and probably also had cash, but you never know), and there could have been more of them. I’m not supposed to let my personal life interfere with my superhero duties.

And then, of course, that makes me think about Simon and what he said when he realised I was jealous of Agatha. He said he was interested in someone else, and he was looking at me shyly and blushing while he said it, then he practically fled from the room.

This is ridiculous. _I_ am ridiculous. I’m weak, and a constant disappointment to myself. Why is it that I can fight villains and take down murderers, but I can’t ask out my roommate?

Simon isn’t good with words, and one of us has to make the first move. I have to just tell him how I feel.

I don’t think he’ll reject me. But maybe that’s what scares me. Because soon enough this thing between Snow and me is going to come to a head, and we aren’t both going to survive. Even if I did decide to walk away, Davy killed my mother unprovoked, so what’s to say Snow won’t do the same for me?

I could be killed. I don’t want to do that to Simon.

_Excuses, Pitch_ , my mind growls at me, even as I’m fighting another villain, my fist landing squarely in his jaw.

I can win. I believe that I can win. I just don’t know if Simon would understand, or forgive me, for everything that I’ve done.

But I can’t wait any longer.

*

As soon as it’s over, I drop my disguise and rush back towards Watford. It’s just starting to get dark out, and I know Simon will be in our room, studying (or maybe not studying, in which case I’ll have to give him crap for it). I’m going to tell him how I feel.

I’m so distracted thinking about what I’m going to say that I don’t notice the car veering off course until its headlights are bearing down on me. If I was still in my superhero costume, I could sprint out of its path or hold it off with my bare hands, but my abilities don’t manifest themselves when I’m in my normal form. It’s a safeguard against me accidentally revealing my identity.

The headlights are flashing nearer and for a second I think I’m about to die and immediately there are two things that come into my head – that I’ll never be with Simon, and that I’ll never avenge my mother, and I barely have time to ponder what it means that the thoughts came to me in that order when something slams into me.

Not the car, because the thing came from the wrong direction, and the thing didn’t run me over, it scooped me up in its arms and now my feet are lifting off the ground. My eyes are squeezed shut, and now I open them and stare directly at an all-too-familiar mask.

It’s Snow. His great red wings are beating behind him as he takes us higher, until we’re level with the treetops. His arms are wrapped securely around my waist, and though we’ve fought each other too many times to count, he’s never been this close, so close I can feel the rise and fall of his chest against mine.

I resist the urge to spit in his face (it’s tempting, though. He’s right there.). After all, right now I’m just another guy to him. And just another guy shouldn’t have any reason to resent him, much less to hate him, after he’s just saved my life.

There’s something twining around my ankle – it’s his fucking tail. He’s wound it around my leg, and I don’t know if it’s intentional or not, but it makes my stomach lurch uncomfortably.

‘Get that fucking thing off me,’ I spit.

His grip around my waist tightens. ‘What?’

‘Your tail,’ I snarl.

‘Oh – right. Sorry,’ he stammers, and the tail unwinds from my leg.

I can’t believe this. My arch-nemesis is flying me above the treetops while the first stars appear overhead. The irony also doesn’t escape me that the one who is meant to be my downfall has just saved my life.

The boy whose father murdered my mother is holding me, and it’s all I can do not to shove him away, even if it means falling to my death.

My only comfort is that he doesn’t know who I am.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7. Simon.

I’m terrified that I’m going to drop him.

Not that I’ve ever fucked up so colossally before while I’m on a mission, but… well, it’s Baz. I’ve got my arms wrapped around him as tightly as I can, so his whole body is pressed against mine, and it’s making my heart pound like crazy. I can barely keep my wings steady. I feel my tail wrapping itself around his leg (I just want him closer, closer, it’s never enough) and he snaps at me to get it off.

I feel myself turning red, not that he’ll be able to see under my mask. He seems uncomfortable, and I wish he’d wind his arms around my neck or at least grab onto my shoulders, but the look on his face tells me he can’t wait for this to be over.

‘You okay?’ I ask.

He makes a low growling sound in the back of his throat. ‘Fine.’

Something occurs to me. ‘Are you afraid of heights?’

‘No.’

‘I won’t drop you,’ I say. ‘I promise.’

‘I fucking know that,’ he growls. ‘Can you put me down? I’m not even injured. I can walk.’

_It’s me_ , I want to scream at him. _I’m Simon_.

‘Do you go to Watford?’ I ask. We’re almost there, and it would just be inefficient to let him walk home. I’m desperate to drop him off and change back so I can talk to him.

‘I don’t see how it’s any of your business,’ he says, and his voice is icy cold. It sends shivers down my spine (and for once, not the good kind).

‘I’m taking you home,’ I say.

‘The hell you are,’ he says. ‘Just drop me here.’

We’re almost at the gates anyway. I sigh and float down to the ground, keeping my arms tight around him until we’re both steady on our feet. He stumbles away as soon as I let go.

I try not to take it personally. He’s just had a near-death experience and then gone flying. If he’s acting completely different to the Baz I know, it’s just because he’s shaken.

‘Be safe. I guess I’ll s…’ My sentence trails off as he stalks away without even a glance back. Without even a thank you.

I launch straight back into the air and fly home as quickly as I can. I have to take a detour to avoid being seen by Baz, but I want to make it back before he does. I don’t want him to ask where I’ve been. If everything goes to plan, _I’ll_ be the one doing the interrogating tonight.

*

I’m back in normal form in our room, lounging on my bed with my phone, when the door swings open. The phone is just a distraction. I sit up and toss it on my pillow as soon as Baz walks in.

‘Hey Baz,’ I say. ‘Where have you been?’

He smirks. ‘Have you been sitting around waiting for me?’

I huff. ‘No. Obviously.’ I’ve been out saving your life, actually. ‘So? Where were you?’

He rolls his eyes. ‘I was visiting my family, I told you in the morning.’

‘Right yeah, you usually get home earlier, don’t you?’ I say, picking at the cover of my bed. I peek up at him, trying to read his expression without making it obvious.

‘I suppose,’ he says, walking over to sit on his bed. ‘I just got held up.’

‘Doing what?’

He frowns, and I know I’m sounding too interested, but I can’t help it. Why won’t he tell me about Snow? Even Agatha texted me last night to say that she’d met him.

‘What’s with all the questions?’ he asks.

I sigh. ‘Okay, fine, I just heard rumours that Snow dropped you off outside the gates.’ The blush creeps up my neck even as I’m saying it. Is this too risky? Do I want him to know? I’ve never even told Agatha, and I’ve known her since we were eleven.

‘Oh,’ he says. ‘I didn’t think anyone saw that.’ He folds his arms across his chest.

‘What did you think of – I mean – what was it like? Flying?’ I remember how strange he was acting while I was in superhero form, and wonder if he hated it. (I don’t want him to have hated it.) (I want him to like all of me.)

‘It was alright.’

I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

‘What happened?’ I prompt him. ‘Did he save your life?’

Baz looks more and more grumpy the longer I question him, and I’m starting to get scared. (He doesn’t like all of me.) (I can never tell him the truth.)

‘Yes,’ he says stiffly. ‘A car almost hit me.’

‘Oh. Are you okay? Did you talk to Snow? Does he actually have a devil’s tail?’ Why can’t I leave it alone?

‘I’m fine, Simon. I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Right. Sorry.’ I stand up. ‘I’m just – I’ll just go get changed.’

‘Wait.’ He stands up too, uncrossing his arms. ‘I need to talk to you.’

There’s something in the way he says it and the way his grey eyes are searching mine, almost nervously, that catches my attention. Baz is a lot of things, but I’ve never seen him nervous.

‘Sure,’ I gulp, sitting back down. Baz moves across and sits next to me on my bed.

‘Maybe this isn’t the best time,’ he says, looking down at his hands, ‘but I swore I was going to tell you today.’

‘Okay.’ I shift closer so my knee bumps his. ‘Tell me.’

He looks up. His eyes are so dark and so focused on mine, and his hair is falling around his face, and it looks so soft, and he’s so perfect and I want to kiss him. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Because maybe I’m totally wrong about what he’s about to say.

‘Simon -’

He takes one of my hands in both of his and holds it tightly in the space between us. I stroke my thumb over his knuckles. (His skin) (his touch) (I need more.)

‘I know we’re roommates and I don’t want to make things weird between us –’

His voice is low, like it pains him to say it.

‘But I just – I like you so much. I want to be with you.’

I sigh. ‘Me too,’ I blurt. ‘I mean – I mean, I like you. So much. You have no idea. I just – it’s been – can I kiss you?’

He huffs a laugh. ‘Yes. Anytime.’

I lean in and tilt my head and kiss him, and every thought is chased from my mind except it’s so, so good, and I like him so, so much. I reach up and run my hand through his hair (I’ve wanted to do that for what feels like forever) and he drops my hand to wrap both arms around my waist, pulling me closer.

‘Seriously, Simon,’ he mumbles into my lips. ‘Anytime. You can kiss me whenever you want.’

So I do. I kiss him and I keep kissing him until my lips are sore, and the dorm around us has gone completely silent, and we’re both giddy from each other’s touch. I keep kissing him until we’re both so tired that we fall asleep in each other’s arms.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8. Baz.

The first thing I notice when I wake up is that for once, I’m not cold. I’m about to fall contentedly back into sleep when I hear soft breaths next to me, and my eyes fly open. _Simon_. I’m on his bed, and he has his arms wrapped around my waist, the top of his head tucked under my chin. I smile and inhale deeply (yes, I’m smelling his hair) (no, that’s not weird).

I wonder what the time is, but I don’t want to move. Today is Sunday, and I’m desperately hoping I won’t have any superhero assignments. I don’t want to have to lie to him so soon into our relationship.

I sigh, lifting a hand to stroke his hair gently. I don’t want to think about that now. Whatever eventually happens between us, however he reacts when he finds out (or, more likely, when I’m forced to break up with him to protect my family’s secret), I’ll deal with it when I have to.

Simon stirs, lifting his head and meeting my eyes. His nose brushes against mine and he smiles.

‘Hey, Baz.’ His voice is still thick with sleep.

‘Hey,’ I whisper back, tugging my fingers through a knot. I love his hair, especially when it’s messy like this after he’s just woken up.

‘Can we just stay here all day?’ he says.

‘No,’ I say. ‘We still have to study.’

‘Who cares about that,’ he mumbles, and moves one hand from my waist to cup my cheek. He kisses me softly. ‘We can do this instead.’

My mouth quirks up at the corners. ‘Mm. Tempting, but…’

He doesn’t let me finish, deepening the kiss. I close my eyes, feeling my whole body responding to his touch, melting into him.

‘You’re very persuasive,’ I say, when I’m able to get a word in.

He says nothing, just keeps kissing me, though I feel him smirk. I pull him closer.

*

We don’t spend _all_ of Sunday snogging on his bed. Eventually Simon gets hungry, and we decide to get dressed and go searching for breakfast. I wait for him at the entrance to the building and as soon as we step outside he reaches for my hand. He swings our hands between us as we walk to the nearest café on-campus.

Simon is obsessed with their sour cherry scones. I order my coffee and insist on buying his breakfast. He smiles at me as he accepts the bag.

‘Does that make this our first date? Since you paid?’

I roll my eyes. ‘We come here at least four times a week, I don’t think this counts.’

He pouts. ‘Fine. But I want to go on a proper date with you. Lunch. Or dinner. Or dessert. I don’t care.’

I nudge him with my elbow. ‘You don’t care, as long as it involves food.’

He nudges me back. ‘No, as long as it involves _you_.’

I raise an eyebrow to let him know how cheesy I think he’s being, but neither of us is fooled, maybe because I can’t resist leaning over and kissing him on the cheek, right on one of his moles (I love his moles. I could map them out in my sleep.).

‘Is this okay?’ I ask, drawing away.

‘What?’

‘This. Us. Holding hands and me kissing you in public.’ I glance around. No-one’s even looking at us. I see a girl from one of our lectures walk past and she only gives us a knowing smile. (Were we really that obvious?)

‘Yeah,’ Simon says, still grinning up at me. ‘Are you okay with it?’

‘Of course.’

‘Good, because I’m going to brag to everyone that posh and pretentious smart-arse Baz is dating me.’

‘Pretentious?’ I say, stopping in front of our building. A few more steps and I would have him backed against the brick wall.

He blushes. ‘Well, you are.’

I frown.

‘You are! You iron all your shirts and you wear designer jeans all the time.’

I step closer and lower my voice. ‘So you’ve been looking at my jeans.’

He turns a darker shade of red and shoves me away with the hand that isn’t holding the bag of scones. ‘Oh, sod off, Baz.’

I laugh and grab his hand, lifting it up to kiss the back of his knuckles. He leads me back into the building and towards the stairwell.

It’s only the first day, and it’s perfect.

*

The second day is just as perfect. We have to go to classes, and Simon’s falling behind after a weekend spent with no study (which is his fault really), but sitting together in the middle of the lecture hall somehow makes it feel more real. I’m left-handed and he’s right-handed which lets us hold hands the entire time. I discover that Simon is extremely fond of holding hands.

He keeps sneaking glances at me throughout the lecture. I don’t think he’s paying attention at all. I try my best to focus, but I end up having to restrain myself from doodling his name all over my notes. (I’ve got to at least save _some_ dignity.)

I’m eyeing the clock, waiting for the last two minutes to tick by so we can go back to our room and get some privacy, when he nudges me and slides over his notebook. I see my name doodled in the margins, over and over again. He’s blushing madly, and he hides his face in my shoulder.

I slide my notebook next to his, so he can see that I’ve done the exact same thing (despite my best efforts). I uncap my pen and write two more words in the bottom corner of the page: _we match_.

Simon looks up and grins at me.

I smile back. I like us like this.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9. Simon.

‘Don’t leave,’ Baz grumbles, sleepily grasping at the back of my shirt. I let him pull me back towards the bed and press a kiss to his temple before dodging out of his grip.

‘Sorry, Baz, I’d rather stay with you, but I really need to go.’

‘Why,’ he slurs.

I laugh. ‘Just go back to sleep, okay?’ I walk over to the drawer and pull out a shirt.

‘Come back soon,’ he says, already drifting back to sleep.

‘I will.’

*

I get called out to the country to deal with an incident with a school bus. They’ve somehow managed to get it flipped onto its back over a creek, and I fly there as quickly as I can to help get everyone out. Once my superhero duties are done for the day, I return home to visit my family.

It’s just my father, Davy, living in a secluded house in the hills. He isn’t even there most of the time, running off on some errand or other that has to do with our family and the other superhero families, though I don’t really know what he does. I don’t see him very often.

From the moment I set foot in the house, it’s all business. He asks me to tell him every detail about my recent encounters with Basilton Pitch, which I do reluctantly. (I just hate talking about it. About him. He makes me so mad, and that scares me. And Davy… Davy makes it worse.)

When Davy finishes questioning me, he stands up and pats me on the back.

‘I’m proud of you, Simon,’ he says. ‘You’ve been doing a great job.’

I straighten up, blushing at the rare praise. ‘Thank you. That – that means a lot.’

He nods. ‘You can see yourself out, then. Remember to watch your back.’

He turns back towards his study, and any pride I felt immediately deflates. _Watch your back_. It sounds so ominous, and it stays with me the entire flight home.

*

Baz must have heard my footsteps down the corridor, because the door to room 61 opens before I’ve even found my key. He pulls me inside and pins me against the wall next to the door, swinging it closed with his foot.

‘About fucking time,’ he says, ducking his head and pressing his lips to mine.

I’m still distracted and it takes me a second to respond. I close my eyes and kiss him back fiercely, trying to pour everything I have into it. Wanting to make him feel everything I feel.

_This_ is home. This is where I feel loved for who I am, and not for what I can do. This is where Baz sees all my flaws and never makes me feel lesser because of them. This is where I feel safe.

I pull away from the kiss and wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest and holding him tight. I can hear his heart beating in time with mine.

He strokes my hair, gently tugging his fingers through my curls.

‘Simon? Is everything okay?’

I nod. ‘Yeah. Fine.’

He pulls away and bends down to meet my eyes. ‘Come on. Let’s talk about it.’ He grabs both of my hands and leads me over to sit on his bed. Then he looks at me, his gaze so attentive, and so patient, and how did I get so lucky?

‘Go on,’ he says. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘Uh.’ I frown. ‘It’s just – just my father. He can be a bit…’

‘Hm?’ Baz says, prompting me to continue.

‘I just always feel like shit after I see him,’ I confess. Seeing Baz’s expression, I hurry to say, ‘he’s not mean or abusive or anything, he just… it’s like I come to see him, and once he’s got what he wanted, he just stops being interested. And I leave.’

Baz nods, squeezing my hands.

‘He has these expectations –’ I hesitate, trying to work this around in my head so I can explain the situation to Baz without letting him suspect anything. ‘I guess he just makes me worry about everything and feel like I’m going to disappoint him.’ Because maybe I won’t be good enough, and maybe I won’t beat Basilton. And then what? Who’ll replace me? There are no other Mage’s Men left who could take over my superhero duties. People could die if I’m not good enough. If I lose.

Baz pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me, stroking my hair.

‘For what it’s worth, you are many things, Simon Salisbury, but never a disappointment.’

I wince at the name. (It was my mother’s maiden name.) (It’s not my real name.)

‘Thank you for saying that,’ I say. ‘And for – for making me feel like it might be true.’

We’re both quiet.

I don’t know how he does it. How he knows exactly what to say to make me feel better.

‘Hey, Baz,’ I say.

‘Hm?’

‘Thank you for helping me talk about it. I don’t usually like to talk about Davy, but it helps. With you.’

Baz coughs. ‘Davy?’

I look up.

‘My father,’ I clarify.

After a long moment of silence, I realise that Baz has gone completely still in my arms.

‘Baz?’

He stands up suddenly, pulling out of my grasp. He’s staring at me, his eyes wide, with shock or horror or some emotion that I don’t understand. His mouth twists and the only way I can describe the expression on his face is utter revulsion.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he spits, and turns and runs out of the room.

Confused, I stare after him.

‘Baz!’ I yell once I get over my surprise, though he must be too far away to hear me by now.

I get off his bed and slowly walk back to mine, slumping against the wall. I guess it might have been something I said. It was probably nothing. He must have just remembered something and run off. Maybe I reminded him of some family issue of his own.

I sigh.

I suppose I’ll just have to wait for him to come back and explain what happened.

I’m sure it’s nothing.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10. Baz.

It’s him. Simon is Snow. Simon Snow.

How could I have been so stupid? How could I have trusted him? _Fuck_. (How could he have made me fall for him?)

It makes so much sense, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. His mother died when he was born. _Lucy Salisbury_. Of course. He’s always coming back to the room with scratches and bruises that he explains away with the most inane stories. Which might not have been such a huge clue in itself if it wasn’t for the fact that I’ve been doing the exact same thing. Fuck, that should have clued me in. How could I have missed that?

His family is responsible for my mother’s death. And I’ve been snogging him and sleeping in his arms for the last week.

I hate him. I hate him so much. Why does he have to ruin _everything_? I should have known Simon was too good to be true. Why couldn’t I have this one thing in my normal life, that should have been completely irrelevant to my alter ego, that should have had nothing to do with _Snow_ , and of course it turns out to be him all along. That’s just the way my life goes, isn’t it? All I do is lose.

*

I pace around the university campus until night falls, not knowing what else to do. I can’t go back there and face him. This could have just been an elaborate plan to get to me, but intuitively I know that Snow had no idea who I am. That it was just as real for him as it was for me. (How could I have liked him I hate it I hate this I hate myself.) Surely he knows now, because who else would react the way I did to finding out that Davy is his father? What will he do now, knowing that I had… _feelings_ for him?

No. I can’t go back. I can’t look at him ever again. I’m so ashamed, and so angry, because I thought I had something incredible that was just _mine_ , I thought I had someone who could love me, and Snow has to ruin it all, as if it isn’t enough that his father killed my mother and that I’ve lived my entire life trying and failing to come to terms with that. (In some back corner of my mind I know that this is twisted logic, because Snow couldn’t ruin everything just by existing if he was the one I fell for all along, but I know that’s the worst thing about it. I liked him so much.)

How can I fight him now, knowing that he’s Simon? Simon, with his bronze curls, and his plain blue eyes, and his simple earnestness that made it impossible for me not to want to mean something to him – no. Simon doesn’t exist, not like that. Not the Simon who would kiss me and stroke my hair until I fell asleep. Not the Simon who I felt, for once in my life, like I belonged with him.

There’s only Snow, of the Mage’s Men, who have it out for my family. There’s only the superhero I have to fight in order to avenge my mother and protect my family. There’s only the infuriating self-righteous git I’ve beat up too many times to count, who has left me scarred, battered and bruised. And that stupid fucking tail (and oh – it was dark, who could have seen Snow carrying me back to Watford, and even if they had, why would Simon have known about it?) (Stupid).

I don’t go back to room 61. Instead, I choose the only person from my tutorials whose room number I can remember, Niall, and knock on his door.

‘You and Simon have a fight?’ he asks sympathetically as soon as he sees my face.

‘Something like that,’ I growl, because it’s so much more than a fucking fight, but close enough. It just so happens that his roommate is out, so I sleep in a stranger’s bed, alone for the first time in days.

*

I am called early the next morning to save someone from a kidnapping.

Good. It’ll keep my mind busy. It’ll remind me what my life is actually like (not tumbling around snogging boyfriends with moles who eat too many cherry scones and stare at my jeans).

I chase after their car. I break down their door. There’s a group of them, and they split off in different directions, and I hunt down every single one of them.

It’s too easy, and it’s over too soon, and eventually I’m going to have to go back to our room. University is still important, after all. I’ll have to look at him – at Simon – at Snow – and know that I can’t have him, and worse still, know that I wanted him. (How could I have wanted Snow, I’m a fucking disgrace.)

I’m making my way back through the city, taking my time, when a shadow flies overhead, and I know before I look up that it’s him. He doesn’t see me, too busy flying whoever his latest rescue is back to their home. I transform back into superhero form so I can follow him stealthily, and wait for him to drop off his charge.

I wait for him around the corner of an apartment building, knowing he’ll have to come this way to go back to Watford. The instant he steps into my line of sight I run at him, shoving him so he goes flying back into the wall with a surprised yelp.

‘I fucking _hate_ you,’ I growl, pulling my arm back, ready to punch him.

‘It’s mutual,’ he says, ducking out of my grip, tail flicking behind him, ‘but can we not do this now?’

I reach for him again, ready to pummel him into the wall. He holds me off, kneeing me in the chest and wrapping his tail around my leg, trying to trip me. I manage to punch him in the jaw and wince at his grunt of pain. Because he sounds like Simon, and how could I not have heard it before?

‘Seriously, not now,’ he says, though he yanks his tail as he does and I go sprawling to the ground. He looks like he’s thinking of kicking me, but he refrains. ‘I have to get home. I’ll fight you tomorrow, Basilton, if you really want.’

He has no idea that it’s me, does he? He hasn’t put two and two together, even after the way I reacted.

‘Fucking clueless moron,’ I snarl, scrambling to my feet and punching him again. And again. He tries to duck out of the way, but I’m too quick for him. Everything I’ve been feeling (you ripped my fucking heart out I hate you so much) suddenly takes over and I stop thinking, losing myself to the fight, needing to know that if nothing else (even if he’s brighter and better than me even if he made me fall helplessly for him) I’m still stronger than him, and faster than him, and I can still beat him. I won’t lose to him. I _won’t_.

There’s a crunch, and I think he might have broken a wing, smashed between his body and the wall. I ignore the sound of pain he makes, shoving him up against the wall with my arm across his chest (so different to the other times I’ve pinned him to walls and kissed him until we were both breathless) (stop).

‘I win this round,’ I say, my voice low, a menace.

He grunts.

‘Say it. Tell me I beat you.’

‘Only because I’m distracted,’ he mumbles.

I shove him harder. ‘Say it.’

He growls. ‘You win, Basilton, sure. You win. Let me go.’

It doesn’t make me feel any better.

I let him go anyway, because no matter what I do, I’m going to lose.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11. Simon.

This is the worst fight Basilton and I have ever had.

It couldn’t have come at a worse time. Baz didn’t come back to the room last night and I haven’t seen him all day. I’m worried that something’s happened to him. Either that, or he’s seriously mad at me, and I don’t know what I did.

I think my wing might be broken. It hurts when I move it. On top of that, I can feel a black eye forming, my head is pounding like hell, and my entire body feels sore. I’m bleeding in at least three places.

I can’t fly home, and the wing hurts too much, so I transform back into my normal form and catch a taxi back to Watford. The driver looks concerned and suggests that we detour by the hospital, but I insist on going straight home.

I’ll be fine. I heal quickly. It’ll just hurt for a day or two. I haven’t been this badly hurt before, but Baz always helps me. I’ll have to come up with some explanation. (I don’t want to lie to him. Not again.)

I trudge up the stairs to our room, wincing in pain with every step. When I open the door, I find Baz sitting at his desk and breathe a sigh of relief. The door swings shut behind me with a thud that reverberates loudly through my head.

I groan, taking two steps into the room and collapsing on my bed. The impact sends fresh pain through my body.

‘Fuck, everything hurts,’ I whimper into my pillow. I’m met with silence, and after I wait for half a minute and nothing happens, I turn my head to look at Baz. He’s still at his desk, and he looks like he’s reading his textbook.

‘Baz?’

He ignores me completely.

‘Baz, please,’ I say. ‘Talk to me.’

There’s no response. My headache is getting worse, and I start seeing spots.

‘What did I do…’ I whisper, seconds before I pass out.

*

When I wake up again, night has fallen. The room is dark, though I can make out a lump under the blankets on the other bed, so I know Baz is here. My headache is mostly gone and I manage to turn onto my side, facing his bed. I consider going over to slip under his covers (he’s the only thing that could make me feel better right now), but I’m not sure anymore that I’d be welcome.

I still don’t know what I did. I know he’s mad at me, but I have no idea why.

I don’t want to lose him. I don’t. I like him so much, I’ve never been so happy.

What could I have done to fuck everything up?

*

He’s gone when I wake up in the morning.

He sits at the front of the lecture hall, surrounded by other students. I shouldn’t even be going to class today with all my injuries, but I go anyway, feeling an overwhelming need to be wherever Baz is. To fix this.

When I try to talk to him after the lecture, he turns around and walks away while I’m mid-sentence. Everyone else, even people I’ve never talked to before, is concerned about my black eye and asking me if I’m alright. Only Baz doesn’t seem to care.

*

‘Baz, please talk to me.’

He’s at his desk again, and I’m standing right behind him, and I need him to turn around. (I need him.)

‘Okay,’ he says, but I don’t feel relieved because his voice is cool and hard as diamond. He stands up and faces me. ‘I want you to stop talking to me,’ he says. ‘I want you to stop following me.’

I gape at him.

I feel like I’m drowning. I don’t want it to be true. I wish we could just go back to normal. But I have to ask, and find out the inevitable.

‘Are you breaking up with me?’

‘Yes, I’m fucking breaking up with you. It’s over. We’re over. Done.’

_Why?_ What did I do? Why does he hate me?

I meet his cold stare for as long as I can, before turning and almost running out of the room. I don’t ask any of the million questions I want to ask, because I don’t want to be any more pathetic than I already am (I thought he liked me I thought he wanted this why does he hate me?), and if I had to see him look at me like that for another second I would have broken down in tears.

How am I supposed to share a room with him now?

*

Sharing a room with your ex-boyfriend is a cruel and unusual torture. (Especially when he broke up with you with no explanation after only a week) (especially when you thought things were going so well.)

I can’t look at him, because it’s too painful and because he always notices, but sometimes it’s physically impossible to look away. I can’t let my guard down, or do any of the usual post-breakup wallowing and ugly-crying, because it’s so humiliating. I can’t get away from him. And I still want him.

I mope until my bruises heal and my face is back to normal. Even my wing has fixed itself, as I discover when I sneak up to the roof to test it out. I endure suffocating silence from Baz, and nights spent staring at his sleeping form, and my silent tears when I’m turned away and he can’t see me. Any time our eyes meet, he gives me a stony glare.

Finally, I’ve had enough.

If he doesn’t want me anymore, that’s his choice, but the least I deserve is an explanation.

We’re in the middle of a lecture when I decide to confront him. I stare at the back of his head for the rest of the lecture, and when it’s over, I follow him out.

‘Baz!’

When he doesn’t turn around (of course; what a git) I grab his arm. He whirls around, yanking his arm away like I’ve burned it.

‘What do you want?’ he growls.

‘I want an explanation.’ I fold my arms across my chest and tilt up my chin, meeting his glare defiantly.

‘How thick are you?’ he sneers.

I stand my ground. ‘I don’t know what your problem is. If you don’t want me, just say so, but I deserve to know why you changed your mind.’

He narrows his eyes. ‘I don’t want you. You’re not who I thought you were.’

‘What the fuck does that mean?’ I cry, exasperated.

‘Sorry, _Snow_ , I don’t have time to deal with this.’

My mouth drops open.

He called me Snow.

_Shit_.

He turns around and marches back in the direction of the rooms. I follow him more slowly, my mind racing.

He knows. That’s okay. I can still fix this.

If he realises that I’m following him, he doesn’t show it. I catch the door before it can close behind him.

‘Look, Baz, I’m sorry I lied to you,’ I say. ‘You have to understand why I had to lie. It’s –’ I gulp, forcing myself to keep talking, to find the words to explain it to him. To get him back. ‘There are people. Villains. People who want to take me down. I had to lie, to protect myself, and my family. Please understand.’

He turns around, giving me a look of complete loathing. I shrink back.

‘I don’t know what to say to make you forgive me,’ I say. ‘I hate this. I swear I’ll never lie to you again.’

He shakes his head. ‘I can’t believe you still don’t get it. It’s not about you _lying_. Fuck, that’s the least of my problems with you.’

‘Then what? You don’t like Snow, do you? I’m still human, Baz. I help people.’

‘ _Idiot_ ,’ he spits, his grey eyes flashing. He looks more dangerous than anything I’ve ever faced, and that’s saying a lot. ‘Fucking idiot, do I have to spell everything out for you? I’m Basilton, you absolute moron. Your father killed my mother. _That’s_ why I hate you.’

‘What?’ I blurt. ‘You…’

As soon as he says it, it makes complete sense.

Baz. Short for Basilton.

He even told me about his mother’s death, and I didn’t make the connection.

Baz – _my boyfriend_ – is the very same as the villain who bashed me into a wall just days ago. Who beat me up and left me broken. Who would happily see me dead.

Horrified, I run from the room.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12. Baz.

I have to focus.

I’ve been sharing a room with Snow for months, in his human form, and he trusted me. There are so many things I know about him that he never wanted me to know.

I have to use this to my advantage. I have to forget about my feelings and finally avenge my mother. Snow may be more shocked and upset at the moment, but he knows things about me too. I have to get in first.

I can still hear the sounds he was making when he came to find me after I’d beaten him up, collapsing on his bed and whimpering for me to come and kiss it all better. Ignoring him and leaving him to hurt felt like the filthiest, lowest thing I’ve ever done, but comforting my sworn enemy – the son of my mother’s killer – that would have been worse.

I have the room to myself. I suppose Snow is off bashing into things until he runs out of steam (Simon used to do that when he was frustrated about uni, and I’d tease him about it until he forgot to be upset) or maybe he’s off performing wondrous acts of heroism. I use the opportunity to speak to some of the staff and find out who I should talk to in order to request a room change. Once I’ve been directed to the appropriate member of staff, I write down their name and phone number on a slip of paper and slip it into one of my textbooks.

I have to think about it before I make a decision. I might still be able to use the roommate situation to my advantage, even if it means I constantly want to fight him.

This time it’s Snow who doesn’t return to the room at night. I figure he’s found somewhere else to sleep (maybe Agatha’s – wouldn’t that be fucking perfect), and I fall into a fitful sleep. I keep waking up and glancing over to check if he’s there, even though I know he won’t be.

*

He manages to avoid me for most of the next day, but at dinner I see him in the hall, glaring at me across the row of tables. He doesn’t take his eyes off me for a second. I can practically feel his hatred. Rather than reciprocating the murderous look, I ignore him completely, trying to keep my expression calm and uncaring.

Funny how I know exactly what will piss him off the most.

I hope he’ll disappear again after dinner, but no such luck. I hear him clomping up the stairs behind me as I go back to our room.

‘Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?’ he says as he barrels in behind me.

‘I don’t have to tell you anything,’ I snap. ‘That’s not how this works.’

‘You could’ve said something when you realised. Rather than let me keep… _pining_ for you.’ There’s barely concealed horror on his face as he says it.

My heart feels like it’s twisting in my chest. (I hate him.)

‘Not my fault you couldn’t resist me,’ I say airily.

He growls, and I realise with a jolt that even though he’s in his normal form, and he still looks like Simon the university student, he’s in the fighting stance that is so familiar to me.

‘You know, if you weren’t always out to get me, it wouldn’t have to be like this,’ he says.

I laugh humourlessly. ‘Right, Snow, so I should just forget that your family hates mine and that your father murdered my mother.’

He takes a step forward. His whole face has gone bright red, a spectacle that I don’t usually get to see underneath his mask.

‘It _wasn’t murder_ ,’ he says through gritted teeth.

‘What makes you so sure?’ I’m raising my voice, and I’m trying not to just let go and tear into him, because I have to keep my cool, I can’t let him get to me. ‘You said yourself you and Davy don’t get along. Were you there, Snow? Would you really put it past him?’

‘This isn’t about our parents!’ he yells. ‘This is about us. Your mother might not have been a villain, but you sure fucking are. I _liked_ you, and you beat me up anyway, after you knew.’

‘No,’ I say coldly. ‘I never liked you, Snow. I don’t like murderers.’

He looks like he’s about to throttle me. ‘I was five too,’ he says. ‘I’m not my father.’ For a second, when he says it, he looks lost (he’s just a boy) (not a murderer), and he might be blinking back tears, but the look is gone just as suddenly as it flashed across his face, and he reaches forward and shoves me hard.

I sneer. ‘You want to settle this? Right now?’ I roll up my sleeves.

I’ll transform, right here in our room in the middle of Watford. They can kick us out. I don’t care.

‘No,’ he says, looking aghast. ‘Fighting isn’t allowed in the room. Or at uni.’ He gulps, and glances at the door.

He’s just a boy, who has only ever tried to do what is right.

‘Then go,’ I spit. ‘I don’t want to look at you.’

He sends me one last hateful glare before storming out of the room.

When the door closes behind him, I sigh, sitting down carefully on the edge of my bed.

He’s right. He was five years old, just like I was. He’s been raised by the Mage’s Men, as I’ve been raised by the Pitches, to follow in their footsteps.

Snow and I, we’re just the same, aren’t we? We’re not even fighting our own fights.

I sigh again, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.

I don’t hate him. Not Simon, and not Snow, though I’m not sure there’s a difference anymore. I know him, both his human form and his alter ego, better than I know myself. I know that he’s selfless, and he can’t control his emotions, and he’s something of a hopeless mess.

It’s far too late to be realising this now.

He is the sun, and I’m always crashing into him, and I think I could love him.

But he’d never let me, after everything I’ve done.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13. Simon.

The worst thing about it all is that I miss Baz.

I keep thinking _if only_. If only the last few days hadn’t happened, and I didn’t know, and Baz was actually just my roommate who liked me. If only he wasn’t my arch-nemesis.

And it’s also true what I said to him; it doesn’t have to be like this. I don’t think he was faking it when he was being sweet and sarcastic Baz. The chemistry between us, that was real, too.

But it’s just so fucking useless to be thinking like this.

I keep expecting him to do something. Now that he knows where I sleep, I keep expecting him to take the opportunity to finally end me. It’s only the knowledge that he cares about his degree and would probably be questioned if his ex-boyfriend and roommate suddenly disappeared that allows me to get any sleep at night. We don’t speak to each other or look at each other if we can help it, and we both continue our superhero duties as if nothing has happened. The only difference is that now when one of us is hurt, we either avoid the room until we’ve healed, or we suffer in silence.

I prefer when he leaves the room. It’s hard, sometimes, to fight the instinct to walk over and try to comfort him, try to make it all better. I tell myself that it’s just my natural response as a superhero, and that any feelings I have left will disappear with time. The problem is that I’m still thinking of them as two separate people, Baz my roommate and Basilton my nemesis. I have to get used to the fact that the Baz who liked me doesn’t exist.

We sit as far away from each other as possible in lectures. He goes to the front of the room, and I go to the back. Instead of watching the lecturer, I never take my eyes off him.

I’m falling behind in my studies, and I can’t bring myself to care. And I’m starting to realise that Baz’s gentle nagging was one of the main reasons why I was actually a decent student, before. (I don’t fucking need him, I shouldn’t.)

I’m doodling again when I think I smell smoke. I’ve just flipped back and found, to my dismay, the page where I doodled Baz’s name all over my notes, when I hear shouts outside the lecture building. Everyone turns their heads to the door and the lecturer wanders over to check out the commotion when we hear a loud crash, and now the smell of smoke is unmistakable.

‘What’s going on?’ People are yelling, standing up and rushing to the windows. The lecturer throws open the doors at the front of the room and jumps back. There’s a huge chunk of the roof of the neighbouring building barricading the doorway. There’s only a small gap left at the top of the doorway (large enough to fly through, I hope), through which we see flames climbing the walls of the next building, and crawling along the ground towards us.

‘Everybody get to the emergency exit,’ the lecturer commands. There’s a stampede around me as everyone rushes to the back of the room, and the first few students start sprinting out of the exit. The crowd around the door is thinning agonisingly slowly, and the crackle of the fire is getting louder.

Slowly, the building starts to catch fire. It seeps in through the cracks, and crawls along the walls. Smoke starts filling the air, and one by one notebooks are burned to a crisp as the fire makes its way along the rows of abandoned seats.

About half of the crowd has left the building when the flames reach the emergency exit and the doorway collapses in on itself. There are a few screams, which turn to hysteria when everyone realises that we’re trapped.

Not caring who sees me, I transform, starting to rise into the air even as the wings are sprouting out of my back.

Everyone’s gathered in the middle of the room trying to avoid the flames, but it’s only a matter of time before the fire reaches them. I spot Baz at the edge of the crowd. He’s transformed too, but he can’t fly, and he’s just as flammable as the rest of us, so I’m not sure what he’s planning to do.

The air is thick with smoke. I grab at the nearest student (even while my mind is screaming at me to get to Baz) and she wraps her arms around my waist, making it easier for me to fly through the smoke and through the narrow gap between the blockade and the doorway and drop her off outside the building, away from the fire. She lets go of me as soon as we land, screaming for me to fly back in and get the others.

Baz is kicking at the rubble in the doorway, trying to break it down. He manages to dent it, but it doesn’t budge.

There are too many people, and the flames are rapidly drawing closer to the centre. I’ll never be able to get everyone out in time.

‘Simon!’

I turn to Baz’s voice.

‘Snow, _help me_ ,’ he growls, running at the barricade and slamming his shoulder into it. He’s strong, and it shudders under his weight, but doesn’t move.

‘It’s no use,’ I say, even as I reach for the next student. ‘I’m gonna get as many people as I can.’

I lift them up and fly back out of the building.

‘We have to work together,’ Baz yells at me when I fly back in.

There are at least twenty students left, and the flames are almost surrounding them.

‘Okay,’ I say, landing next to Baz. I don’t know why I trust him, and why I’m listening to him (I can hear Davy’s voice in my head, screaming at me to stop wasting time with a villain, to save as many of the others as I can before it’s too late), but I know Baz. He’s smart. He cares about our classmates, our friends. He wants to save everyone just as much as I do.

‘We both have different skills,’ he says. ‘We have to figure out how to use them together.’

He stares at me, his gaze intense, like he expects me to solve this. Like he believes I can.

‘Okay,’ I say, rising up off the ground. ‘I’ll pull this thing from the outside. You shove as hard as you can.’

His voice is laced with sarcasm. ‘Truly brilliant, Snow.’

‘It’ll work,’ I insist. ‘If we work together.’

‘Okay,’ he says, ‘ _go_.’

I don’t waste time being surprised that he listened to me, flying back through the gap and winding my tail around one of the rafters. I spread out my wings and beat against the air, trying to propel myself forward. At first nothing happens and I’m just uselessly flapping my wings, but then I feel the blockade shudder behind me, which I imagine is the result of Baz slamming into it, and it slowly starts to give.

With Baz shoving and me pulling the barrier, we gradually move it far enough out of the doorway that people can start streaming through. I fly back into the room and realise we were just in time. The flames have almost consumed the entire building.

I lift up my wings to provide some shelter from the flames and the smoke, ushering everyone out and helping those who can hardly walk. The last student has slipped through the doorway when I hear sirens in the distance, followed by another crash.

The fire has finally chewed through the front doorway. It collapses and I jump out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed. A chunk of the doorframe smashes into my shoulder, sending a jolt of pain through my arm. I try not to cry out.

It was sheer luck that it happened just after everyone got out.

Except for me, of course, but now the ceiling is starting to give, and there’s a gap just large enough for me to be able to squeeze through, probably –

And except for Baz, who is crouched by the ruined doorway, surrounded by flames.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14. Baz.

I’m going to die in this fire.

The flames are all around me, making it hard for me to see anything but sparks and thick black smoke, and all I can think is that I’m going to die and Simon will still think I hate him.

I’m curled in on myself, resting my head on my knees, trying to breathe. Trying to stay conscious, though I know it won’t be for long.

I’m thinking about my mother, too, but not about avenging her – because after all, what use is revenge? It won’t bring her back. I’m thinking about what she’d think of me if she knew how I chose to spend all the time I got to be alive.

I bet she would have liked Simon.

I hear a scream, cutting through the crackling of the fire, and I realise that he’s still here. He’s flying through the flames towards me – why is he coming _towards_ me? – and yelling my name. _Baz_. Not Basilton.

He lands next to me. I look up, and the ceiling is starting to collapse.

Everything is bright red and orange and it feels like my head is on fire.

I can hardly breathe.

‘Get out,’ I gasp.

‘My arm’s dead,’ he says, ‘and you clearly can’t move. I can’t get you out.’ He’s crying. He’s not wearing his mask, so he just looks like Simon with wings and a tail, and there are tears running down his cheeks.

There’s nothing left in my lungs except for smoke and I can’t believe he’s making me convince him to save himself with my last breaths.

‘You don’t need your arm to fly,’ I spit. ‘Fucking _go_.’

‘I can’t carry you,’ he chokes. ‘I can’t, Baz, I’m sorry.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘Just go.’

But he doesn’t. He slides down to the floor next to me and shuffles closer until we’re side by side. He spreads out his wings and wraps them around me.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I cough.

‘This might help, with the flames. I heard sirens, the fire trucks will be here soon, we might be okay…’

I would shove him off, but he was right; I can’t move. I’m too weak.

‘Why.’

‘What?’

‘Why won’t you leave me?’

I’m crying too now. Simon Snow is going to die trying to protect me from this fire. _Simon is going to die_.

‘Because – because I – fuck, because it’s you, Baz, I couldn’t. I could never.’ He draws his wings more tightly over my head, trying to shield me from the smoke and the shimmering heat. ‘I know you’re supposed to be a villain, and I know you probably still want me dead, but you’re not a villain, you’re just a boy.’

‘I don’t want you dead,’ I sob. ‘I want you to go.’

‘I won’t,’ he whispers. He leans his forehead on my shoulder.

‘You and your stupid superhero complex,’ I mutter.

He laughs. He lifts up his head so his eyes are level with mine. They’re alive and dancing with firelight. ‘Goodbye, nemesis mine,’ he says. And then he presses his lips against mine.

It’s a soft kiss, and he’s pulling away before I have a chance to recollect myself. I close my eyes, and I use the last of my strength to grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him back to me.

This time there’s no uncertainty in the kiss. It’s messy, and desperate, and I can feel the heat of the flames even through his wings and I know that this is the end. I can taste his tears and feel him all around me trying to protect me and as dying moments go, this one’s better than I could have hoped for.

I give him everything I have.

We don’t pause for breath.

Until finally, the fire is too close, and the heat becomes too much, and I pass out.

*

I wake up in hospital.

I’m confused, at first. My family is there, and my father is crying, which is not a common sight. There are nurses and doctors rushing around and beeping machines everywhere and when I open my mouth to speak, nothing comes out.

I’ve inhaled too much smoke, I’m told, so I won’t be able to talk for a while.

I also can’t move.

I try to scream. _Simon_. Where is he? Is he alive? But apparently nobody in this room knows that we were together when the fire department got to us. Certainly nobody in my family knows that I care.

They tell me that as far as they know, the fire started in the science lab, and they think it was an accident caused by irresponsible students.

They tell me that according to our classmates, it was Basilton and Snow’s heroism that saved them all.

My stepmother quietly tells me that she’s so proud of me and so glad I’m okay.

Nobody bothers to tell me what happened to Simon.

*

It turns out Simon has been in the hospital bed next to mine all along. I sleep some more, and when I wake up again night has fallen, everyone’s gone, and I’ve healed enough that I can move my head. I almost cry with relief when I see him, sleeping soundly beside me. Just as though we’re back in our room.

He’s alive, and I’m alive, and we’re both going to heal.

Everything is okay. I watch him sleep for a while, his breathing regular, his eyelids fluttering as he dreams.

I suppose that when he wakes up, I’ll have to ask him if the kiss meant anything. (I’ll also have to yell at him for being willing to die for me.) (And I guess that answers my previous question.)

*

‘Baz!’

I’m woken up by the sound of his voice. The room is still dark and there are other patients in the beds around us, stirring slightly at the disturbance. He sounds scared.

‘Simon?’ I say quietly.

He turns his head in my direction. ‘Baz,’ he sighs.

‘I’m here,’ I whisper.

*

The doctors are amazed by how quickly we both recover. They let us out within a few days. I haven’t spoken to Simon about anything important, because we’re always surrounded by other people. My father drives us both back to Watford, merely nodding his head when I ask for Simon to come along with us. (I think they told him that Snow had his wings around me when they found us. I think he knows Snow risked his life for mine.)

He sits cross-legged on his bed and I do the same, facing him. We just look at each other.

‘You almost died,’ he says finally.

‘You wouldn’t leave me,’ I say.

He shrugs.

I take a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry.’

His eyes widen, and he seems to understand that I don’t just mean for almost getting him killed in the fire. I’m talking about everything else.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Me too.’

‘It’s just that…’ I frown. ‘I don’t understand why you’d do that. After I blamed you for my mother’s death. After I broke your wing, and then you used the same wing to protect me. Don’t you see the irony?’

He shrugs again. ‘I thought you were a villain because of what my father told me. We’re even.’

We’re not, but I won’t argue with him. I’m done fighting him.

‘Why’d you kiss me back?’ he blurts out. He bites his lip and stares up at me with hope written all over his face.

I smile. ‘Why do you think, Snow?’

He blinks in surprise, and I realise I’ve said _Snow_ the same way I used to say _Simon_.

‘Can we try again?’ he says, his face flushing. ‘I understand if – after all our history – if you don’t want – I mean. I still like you.’

‘I don’t think I could stop liking you if I tried,’ I say.

We both stand up to cross the space between us, and meet in the middle.


	15. Chapter 15

Epilogue. Simon.

‘Where are you going?’

I open one eye as Baz carefully extricates himself from my arms.

‘Sorry,’ he whispers. ‘I was trying not to wake you.’

It’s been a few days since the fire incident. My wings have healed enough that it no longer hurts to open them, though they were pretty badly burnt at first. Baz has slept in my arms every night.

It’s so good. It’s even better than that week we were together, because now neither of us is holding anything back. If we can still want this after being taught to hate each other for most of our lives, we can get through anything.

The Pitches have completely come around since I saved his life. Baz says that his father phoned him specifically to give his blessing. As for Davy, he’ll probably take more convincing, but this is my life, not his. It’s up to me to decide what’s the right thing to do.

I grab hold of Baz’s wrist, trying to pull him back to me.

‘Don’t go.’

‘I have to,’ he says. ‘Duty calls.’

I open both eyes and sit up. ‘Superhero duty?’

‘Yeah. I have to deal with this, but I’ll be back soon, I promise.’

I throw off the covers. ‘No way. I’m coming with you.’

He opens his mouth to protest.

‘We’re a team, remember?’ I say.

He raises an eyebrow and starts to smile. ‘Yeah.’ He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet, planting a quick kiss on my forehead. ‘Let’s go, then.’

*

It turns out it’s so much easier being a superhero when you have a partner. No more trying to single-handedly lift barricades and carry injured people and fight multiple people at once. It’s twice as efficient, and way more fun.

‘I can’t believe we didn’t think of this before,’ I say to him.

We still get on each other’s case a lot. He still thinks my tail is ridiculous, though I’ve noticed that sometimes when we’re in superhero form he’ll hold my tail as if he’s holding my hand, letting me wind it around his wrist. (Plus, it’s useful when I need to whack him on the back of the head.) We fight sometimes, when we don’t agree on the best method to rescue someone or to corner a villain. We’ve come to an agreement that I get to make the decisions on the rescues, since they’re technically my assignments, and he gets to make the decisions on the villains.

I’ve watched him take lives, and there are so many things I wish I could show my past self. Like the fact that he clearly hates it. He knows he has to do it to protect others, but he’ll get really quiet in our room later, and I’ve learned that the best way to comfort him is just to hold him. I try to get as close to him as I can, just to remind him that I’m not scared or put off by it.

Whenever one of us gets hurt, the other is always there, with that same first aid kit from the bathroom drawer. It feels safer this way, having someone look out for me. I like not having to fight him anymore.

And sometimes we get to forget about everything and just be regular boyfriends.

We still have to go to our classes. We have to trek halfway across campus to get to the only free lecture hall they were able to relocate us to, while the other room is being rebuilt after the fire. Baz makes us wake up twenty minutes earlier than we used to because he claims that I’m always making us late. (We still end up being late most of the time, but it’s not my fault he keeps stopping to snog me on the way to class.)

It’s so much _more_ than I ever thought I’d get to have.

I’m living a charmed life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay it's done!! Thankyou everyone who read/liked/commented, I really appreciate it! xx
> 
> I'll probably post some of my other fics on here soon, or you can find them all on andonewillbringhisfall.tumblr.com/fic-list


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